Or sometimes at 2:27 in the afternoon. Yesterday.
As you may or may not remember, back at the end of July I sent the finished Civil War novel to my agent. She warned me that she had several manuscripts ahead of mine and it would be some weeks before she got back to me.
Time passed. During which I began to sketch out several scenarios, most of which involved her reading it and HATING every word then dilly dallying over how to tell me there was no way under heaven she could represent such a steaming pile of-
You get the idea. I've spent weeks now, feverishly checking my email, waiting for the blow to fall.
Yesterday she emailed to say she'd finished it and that, in her opinion, I'd written a great novel (italics hers,) far and above anything I'd ever written. And that she can think of a number of editors who'd like to see it.
Oh, be still my heart! I will, of course, keep you informed . . .